


As the Day Cools

by Yavannie



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Praise But Not The Kink Kind, Prompt Fill, Sexual Content, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:47:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29941941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yavannie/pseuds/Yavannie
Summary: A series of moments between Din and Omera, as prompted by Mandomera Week on tumblr. These are the NSFW prompts. More tags and prompts to be added as I go.Chapter 1 - Day 1 - First time: Virgin Din / Inexperience / Slow and Tentative.Chapter 2 - Day 2 - Exploration and discovery: Learning each other's bodies / Communication / Praise
Relationships: Din Djarin/Omera
Comments: 32
Kudos: 35
Collections: Mandomera Week 2021





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not betaed. Thank you Mandomera week on tumblr for these prompts!

Eventually he returns to Sorgan.

The thought has always been there, somewhere at the back of his mind, but there were things that he needed to do first. Things to get out of his system. But after a few long months on Tatooine helping Fett flush out the last of the Hutt scum by day and drinking himself into a stupor by night, he feels done. Done with dust and heat and drowning his sorrows, and ready to crack open the door to the rest of his life. 

One of the first things Din bought with his share of the spoils from Jabba’s palace was an old Y-wing that was gathering dust in a hangar in Mos Eisley. Since then, Peli Motto and her pit droids have fixed her up to flying shape, and as he starts up the spaceship, he pictures living on Sorgan for a while. Long, slow days scouting the perimeter, and a hearty meal and a soft bed to come back to. He tells himself it’ll be steady work. He might not get rich doing it, but there are other perks to consider. _We want you to stay_ , she'd said, and he hopes it’s not too late.

* * *

The sun of Sorgan is close to setting when he lands the ship, some way away from the settlement. Before he opens the hatch, he puts his helmet on. It’s taken him long enough to feel comfortable wearing it again, not to mention being comfortable with having a choice, but now he feels an acute need to put it on. Anything could have happened in the past year, he tells himself. The village could have been raided again, and he might need his visor sight and the added protection.

She could have found someone else, too, he thinks fleetingly, and the thought sits like a lump in his stomach as he checks the fastenings of his armor one last time.

He covers the final stretch on foot, and is surprised to find a sturdy fence surrounding the krill farms, and two villagers guarding the entrance. When he realizes it is in fact Caben and Stoke, it’s less surprising that they seem half asleep and only spot him when he chooses to make his presence known, stepping out from between the trees. They scramble to embarrassed attention, and when Stoke shrugs his rifle off his shoulders, Caben slaps his arm.

“It’s Mando!” he hisses, then turns to Din and nods respectfully. “Welcome back,” he says. 

“This is new,” says Din, looking around at the fencing. “Has there been trouble?”

“Some,” Caben admits.

“The raiders came back, eventually,” says Stoke. “But now that they’re without that walker, we’re handling it,” he adds, patting his rifle.

“Pretty much,” Caben mutters. 

“I’m looking for work,” Din says bluntly. “Should I be looking elsewhere?”

Caben and Stoke exchange a quick glance.

“You’d be a welcome addition to our numbers,” says Caben evenly, stepping aside to let Din pass.

The children recognize him as he makes his way towards the center of the village, and they clamour around him, asking about the child.

“He’s with his people now,” Din says, and a collective, disappointed _aaw_ surges through the small crowd. 

As they disperse, a couple of kids linger, and he recognizes Omera’s daughter as she throws him a shy glance. She’s grown by at least half a foot, her limbs more gangly than childlike now.

“Hello Winta,” he says.

“Hello,” she says. “Mom is out on patrol,” she adds.

“Is she now?”

“She’ll be back soon,” says Winta, and before Din can reply, she takes off, skipping across a narrow bridge to join some other children.

* * *

Din is negotiating with Ruyuk, a village elder, when she returns.

“A hut of your own, meals, and thirty credits every cycle, that’s my last offer,” Ruyuk says.

But Din has stopped listening, his gaze trained on the familiar figure approaching together with another woman, rifles slung over their shoulders. When she spots him, she freezes, then starts walking a little faster.

“How about it?” says Ruyuk.

“That will be fine,” Din says distractedly and steps past the old man to meet Omera.

She almost breaks into a run the last few yards, but then she slows her steps again with an embarrassed smile. She stops at a respectful distance, and Din inclines his head slightly in a greeting.

“You came back,” she says.

“Yes.”

She looks behind him, and around him. “Where…”

“He’s safe,” he interrupts her. Thinking about Grogu still claws at his chest. “I’ll tell you later.”

Omera nods. She looks thoughtful as her eyes flit over his frame. “How come you’re here again? Did something happen?”

“I’m looking for work,” he says, repeating the words he’s been telling himself the past couple of days, ever since he made his mind up to go.

But that’s only half true, if that, because as the haggling with Ruyuk has just proven, the work here pays next to nothing. The truth is, he’s here because this is where she is. Because he wavered once, and because the thought of what might have happened had he let her remove his helmet has never quite left him.

Now, of course, that’s all a moot point.

“But yes,” he says, reaching up to release the fastening mechanism at his neck. “Something did happen. A lot of things happened.”

He pulls the helmet off swiftly and deliberately, and it's equal parts terrifying and relieving, like ripping a band-aid off. Omera gasps, and he can feel the curious eyes of the villagers around them. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the feeling of being watched, but he pushes that thought away and focuses on her. On her...reaction. 

“You–” she stammers, wide-eyed, her lovely mouth hanging open in surprise.

Din steels himself, back straight and legs steady. This is who he is, after all, and the sooner she knows, the better. And then she smiles – a curious, almost coy smile.

“You’ll have to tell me all about it,” she says, finding her voice again. “They’ll be lighting the bonfire soon.”

He tells her some of it after they’ve eaten, sitting shoulder to shoulder with her by the fire, its merry crackling making shadows dance across her face. He tries not to look too much – this is a weakness of his, and he knows it. For years he’s been able to watch people without them knowing, and he slips into that habit far too easily. Then again, Omera does it too. She scrutinizes his face as he talks, seems to drink him in with her eyes until he grows uncomfortably hot under the collar. When she smiles, he can’t help but smile back a little, and then her smile grows wider until he has to look away to keep himself from grinning like a damn fool.

* * *

It’s high summer on Sorgan, which means the krill farm is busy. On the second day, Omera takes him around the outskirts of the village, showing him the precautions they’ve taken to keep the pillagers out.

“We can pretty much handle a raid these days,” she says as they watch the farms from high up on a nearby hill. “But sometimes it’s touch and go. And sometimes the losses are significant.”

“Ever thought about taking the fight to them?” Din asks.

“They’re heavily fortified,” Omera sighs. Then she looks at him with a lopsided smile. “Maybe with you here, something could be arranged.”

“Maybe.”

For the moment, though, Din is happy enough to just enjoy the peaceful life at the village. It’s more or less as he imagined it; he does patrol rounds by day, and come nightfall he sits with the others around the fire, listening to tales and songs, or losing pebbles to Caben in games of dice. 

Omera is there, too, usually with Winta by her side. Her eyes linger on him frequently, but she keeps her distance, so he does too.

* * *

A week or so after his arrival, a forager returns to the village early, out of breath and bearing bad news.

“Raiders,” he huffs, clutching at his side. “Two miles west. I’m sure of it.”

“How many?” Omera asks, getting to her feet.

“Not many. I couldn’t see them properly. Scouts, maybe.”

“Mando?” says Omera, looking his way, and she needn’t have asked; he’s already making his way to his hut to don his armor.

They stalk through the forest together, in the direction the forager pointed them in. Omera is graceful and alert, moving quietly from tree to tree, and with his eyes once more hidden behind a visor Din finds himself distracted by watching her to the point where he stumbles on a bared root on the forest floor. After that, he forces himself to focus on the task at hand.

After more than an hour’s worth of scouting and coming across nothing but animal tracks, they stop by a small brook to drink and rest. Din removes his helmet and splashes cold water on his face and neck, and when he bends down again to drink, he notices Omera watching him with what seems like amusement.

“What?” he asks, his cupped hand halfway to his mouth, the water slipping rapidly through his fingers.

“Nothing,” she says. “I just enjoy looking at you.”

Din freezes for a second, thinking he must have misheard her. But as he sits back on his heels, he can see a faint blush on her cheeks. Then she unhooks a small cup from her belt, fills it in the brook and hands it to him. As he drinks, she holds his gaze, still smiling that secret smile.

“I’m glad you came back, Mando,” she says, and as she speaks, Din notices how soft and inviting her lips seem from this close up. 

“It’s Din,” he says. “My name is Din Djarin.”

She raises her eyebrows in surprise, and now they’re somehow even closer, and before he can think about it, or hesitate, his lips are meeting hers in a kiss, a hesitant and gentle touch that makes his blood ring in his ears.

And then there’s a rustle among the bushes, and Omera is on her feet and firing a shot before Din can even make sense of what direction the noise is coming from.

“Boar,” she says, lowering her rifle. “And if that wasn’t what Hesto saw earlier, we’ve given ourselves away. At least we’ll eat well tonight.”

They walk back to the village in silence, the boar strung up from a pole between them, and the whole way Din’s head is spinning, with bewilderment, and fear, and hope all at once.

* * *

That night, she comes to his hut. A rustle at the entrance wakes him, and he’s on his feet in seconds, adrenaline already pumping, his body ready to fight.

“Din?” Omera’s muffled voice comes from outside.

His shoulders drop, and he lets out a little sigh of relief. “Yes?” he answers.

“Can I come in?”

“Uh…” 

Din glances down at himself; in this heat he sleeps in his underclothes, and he shuffles his foot around on the floor until it finds his pants. He’s just about finished lacing them up when Omera turns the flap aside, her silhouette briefly outlined against the distant light from the bonfire. When the canvas falls back down they’re left in the dark, but Din can hear her soft, slow footfalls as she moves towards him.

“Winta is sleeping,” she says, and there’s a curious lilt to her voice, as though he should be pleased to hear this.

He can’t think of anything to say. _So was I_ feels like a terrible option, so he simply hums in acknowledgement. And then she’s suddenly right there in front of him, her fingers brushing over his chest, her lips ghosting over the corner of his mouth. 

It’s too much. He knows that this is nothing, that this is how things are done, but for him it’s all new, and it’s too much. His skin feels almost raw where her hand touches it, every fibre of his being protesting and yearning all at once. And that’s not all. It’s the way his blood surges hot, his body reacting of its own volition, and the way he goes cold all over when he thinks about what she might want from him – what she might expect. He swallows hard, asking all the forces that may be out there to aid him, to help him make her understand that he wants this too, just not–

“Omera,” he says, reaching up to still her hand.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, and the way she draws back from him makes him wince. He can barely make out her face in the darkness, but her brows seem to draw together with worry.

“Nothing. I just…” his voice cracks a little, and he closes his eyes and swallows again. “I’ve never been with a woman. With anyone.”

He can hear how she hesitates, and his heart sinks.

“I already knew that,” she says softly. “Or at least I suspected as much. But after what happened in the forest, I…”

Din forces himself to look at her again, and she meets his gaze with serious, dark eyes. 

“If this isn’t what you want, just tell me and I’ll leave,” she goes on.

“I do want this,” he says immediately, because the thought of her thinking he doesn’t is too much to bear.

He squeezes her hand gently, and when she squeezes his back, he shudders a little with relief.

“We can go slow,” she says.

“Yes,” he nods. “Slow.”

She’s fully dressed as they lie down on his bed, and yet Din knows that he won’t sleep tonight. Not that he needs to – now that she’s right there next to him, he doesn’t want to miss a second of it. 

“Will you hold me?” Omera asks after a while.

They shift until her back is pressed against his chest, and when he places a tentative hand in the dip above her hip, she takes it and pulls it down until it’s resting on the softness of her belly.

“Is this alright?” she murmurs.

“Yes,” he says, and when he breathes in, he can smell her hair – it smells of smoke and flowers and the night breeze, and he can’t believe his luck.

Miraculously, he does sleep, long into the morning, and when he finally wakes she’s already gone.

* * *

He spends the next day on patrol, and he doesn’t see Omera until late that evening by the bonfire. She seems deep in conversation with a friend, so he sits down with Caben instead, half listening to the villagers talk among themselves. He tries his best to not stare at her, but his eyes keep drifting her way all the same, and he suddenly wishes he had his helmet on. As if she can sense his gaze, she looks back at him. Din freezes, embarrassed that she caught him ogling her, but she breaks into a warm, almost girlish smile before looking away, flustered. 

She comes to him again that night, following him only minutes after he excuses himself and leaves the fire.

“Will you kiss me?” she asks, barely a whisper in the darkness of the hut.

And he seeks out her face with her hands, tracing her cheekbones with trembling thumbs before bending down to press his lips against hers. The kiss feels stiff, and nervous, and nothing like the one they shared in the woods.

“Show me how,” he begs, and she does.

She catches his lower lip softly between hers fleetingly, and then again, and again, until he feels the tension drain from his shoulders. Then she moves on to his upper lip, sucking on it lightly. He opens his mouth a little in a quiet gasp, and when she closes the little gap between them they’re suddenly kissing in ernest, her lips fitting so well against his. When her tongue brushes fleetingly against his, it goes straight to his core, a surge of heat that makes a moan escape him.

“Come,” she says, pulling him with her until they bump against the bed.

This time they lie face to face, kissing until he loses all sense of time and space. And Din thinks he could do this forever, getting lost in her taste, sharing her air, feeling her fingers tugging gently at his hair, drifting off to sleep and then waking up to kiss her again. 

“I should go,” Omera whispers, pulling away from him.

The dawn is seeping in through the window, and Din can’t believe he fell asleep without noticing again. He catches her hand, tugging on it until she laughs softly and leans in for another kiss.

“Stay,” he mumbles against her lips.

He can feel her smile, but she draws back again, getting to her feet. Din pushes up on his elbows and watches her as she puts her shoes on, and before she leaves she pauses by the canvas flap, looking back at him with a quick smile. 

He flops back down on the bed with a long sigh. Memories of the night flood his mind, and they seem to head straight for his cock. When he reaches down to take himself in hand, he doesn’t think about the things that normally get him off, old memories of encounters between others he’s glimpsed by chance, or passages in books he’s read to keep himself occupied in hyperspace; he thinks of Omera’s hand in the place of his, what it would feel like to have her grab him, to stroke him, to straddle him and–

He comes so suddenly that he barely has the presence of mind to keep quiet, and he flings his head to the side to groan into the pillow as his cock pulses in his hand, ruining his sheets.

* * *

She slips inside his hut again the next night, crawling into his bed with cool hands and hot kisses. They fall asleep together, but once again she leaves at dawn. Over the next couple of weeks, she comes to him almost every night, until he starts not just hoping she will, but expecting it. They kiss, and touch, and he holds her close until they fall asleep, but always fully clothed. The few nights he spends alone, he feels an odd kind of discomfort somewhere deep in his gut. To his surprise, the nights without her soon become the sleepless ones.

From the very first night, there has been a silent agreement between them that they don’t talk about this during the day, but when two nights in a row suddenly pass in solitude, Din approaches her.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks.

Omera looks up from the rifle she’s cleaning. “No,” she says with a little frown. “Why?”

He hesitates, trying to find the right words. “I like it when you spend the night,” he says eventually, in a low voice.

She smiles briefly. “Me too,” she says. 

“Tonight?” he asks.

Omera seems to think for a moment, looking over at Winta who is mending baskets with her friends some way away. Then she nods.

“Sure. I’ll try.”

 _I’ll try_. Something about it doesn’t sit right with Din. He wonders if it’s because of Winta. If she suspects something; if she disapproves. Din watches the youngling as she works, and on a whim he walks over to her.

“Hey kid,” he says, and hearing himself say that word again stings more than he thought it would. But Winta looks up at him expectantly, so he clears his throat and goes on. “I’m heading out to scout the perimeter. Want to come?”

Winta gets to her feet so quickly that the basket falls into the nearest krill pool, and she fishes it out at lighting speed with a worried glance at Omera, who has stopped her work to watch them.

“Yes,” says Winta, her eyes gleaming. “Can I? Did mom say I could?”

“I...haven’t asked her yet,” Din admits, looking over his shoulder at Omera.

“Can I go scout with Mando?” Winta calls out to her mother. “Please, mom!”

Omera’s mouth drops open, and her eyes flash with annoyance as they meet Din’s. 

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she says, walking over to join them.

“It’ll be fine,” says Din. “We won’t go far.”

“Please!”

“Winta…” says Omera.

“It’ll be fine,” says Din again, echoing back the words she spoke to him, many months ago now.

Omera seems to remember it too, and she purses her lips and gives him a stern look.

“Two against one, huh?” she quips at Winta, crossing her arms. “That’s hardly fair. Off you go then. Not too far,” she adds quietly to Din, still looking not entirely pleased.

Winta is good company. She doesn’t talk unnecessarily, and she’s a quick learner. What’s more, she knows things about Sorgan’s flora and fauna that Din doesn’t, and happily answers questions about the planet that he’d never dream asking an adult. He keeps his promise to Omera, never straying too far from the village, but it’s clear to see that Winta misses the freedom of the days before the fenced barrier as she skips nimbly and quietly between rocks and logs.

At midday, they share Din’s packed lunch in companionable silence, and then lie down to rest a few minutes in a sunny clearing.

“Mando,” Winta says after a while.

“Yes?” says Din, turning his head to look at her. 

She has her eyes closed, her arms folded beneath her head. “Do you like my mom?”

A chill of anxiety shoots through Din’s chest. “Of course I like her,” he says evenly.

Winta raises her eyebrows, but keeps her eyes closed. “I mean do you _like_ her.”

“Why do you ask?”

Now she turns to give him an unimpressed look. “Well, she’s my mom and I think I deserve to know.”

Din tries his best to keep a neutral face as he tries to think of something to say to that. “Your mom is one of the most terrific women I’ve ever known,” he says finally.

Winta turns away with a little sigh. “Fine, I get it,” she says flatly, then closes her eyes again.

Din lets out a slow breath and looks up at the clouds with a distinct feeling that he somehow made a narrow escape.

* * *

He leaves the fire early that night, trying to catch Omera’s attention as he goes. Perhaps she doesn’t notice, because once inside his hut, the minutes drag on without any sign of her following. He lights a candle and inspects his armor, even though he knows it’s in good condition. Eventually he lies back on his bed, trying to clear his mind of her. Two nights alone have left him drained with lack of sleep, and yet he can’t seem to find it now either.

“Din?”

He sits up in one fluid movement. “Yes?”

Omera slips inside the hut, and in the dim light from the candle he can see she’s wearing some kind of nightrobe. She sits down next to him on the bed, keeping her eyes on the floor.

“I’m sorry for not coming sooner,” she says.

“Is it because of Winta?” he asks.

She looks at him, surprised. “Yes,” she says. “Yes, in a way.”

He wants to tell her how well their little trip in the forest went, and that Winta seems to like him, from what he can tell, but before he can say anything, she speaks again.

“I only want what’s best for her,” she says. “Like any mother. Or parent. I hope you understand.”

Din nods. This, he can definitely understand.

“But,” she goes on, “I have wants and needs of my own. And sometimes it’s hard to balance the two.” She pauses, turning to him, and the look she gives him is heavy with emotion. “Stars, Din, I want you. I _need_ you.”

When they kiss, it’s different. There’s an urgency to it, and he senses some kind of question in her. He tries his best to reassure her, to match her pace when the kisses deepen until they come apart, both breathing hard.

She stands up again, and slowly pulls at the belt of her robe until it falls open. Underneath, she’s wearing nothing but underclothes, and when she lets the robe drop to the floor, he can make out her shapes through the flimsy fabric. Without thinking, he reaches up for her, but then stays himself, searching her face for permission.

“Please,” she whispers, taking his hands and placing them on her hips.

He runs his fingers up her sides, and she hums quietly. When he reaches her chest, his arms tremble with nerves, but when he runs his thumb along the swell of a breast, she tips her head back and sighs with pleasure, and it’s not without a certain thrill of pride that he realizes that he’s making her feel good. He lets his fingers wander until they find a taut nipple, and the noises she makes as he teases it is getting him hard, fast. His body seems to know exactly what it wants, but–

“Din,” says Omera, taking his hand, looking down at him as though she senses his hesitation. “Is this okay? Are you...I don’t want to push things.”

Her eyes betrays her; she’s worried, and it strikes him that he’s not. He’s no longer afraid. Just unsure.

“I want it to be good for you,” he says. “I want you to feel good. But I don’t know how.”

Omera’s face breaks into a stunned smile, and a little laugh slips her.

“Oh,” she says. “Well. I can take care of that.”

Din frowns, confused, but then she puts her hands on his shoulders, pushing him gently until he lies back on the bed. She climbs up after him, but instead of lying next to him, she rests her knees on either side of his hips. He sucks a breath in when she slowly sits down until her ass rests firmly against his cock. She closes her eyes and hums in approval, moving against him experimentally.

It’s as though she’s been reading his thoughts, because she’s making his hazy morning fantasies come to life. They kiss again, once, twice, but it’s more of an afterthought as she begins grinding down on him with more determination. Even through the layers of cloth between them it feels incredible, the hint of her warm core driving him to distraction. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he grabs her hips, simply to have something to hold on to. Omera bites down on her lip, and a stuttering moan escapes her, and it’s a miracle he doesn’t come there and then. 

“Yes,” Omera breathes, and bit by bit, her movements become shallower, more erratic. 

How Din keeps it together, he doesn’t know, but he’s determined to not let this end too soon. And then she tenses up, gripping his shoulders so hard it almost hurts. She squeezes her eyes shut with a strangled whimper and grinds against him once, twice, and-

“Gods,” she groans, her eyes snapping open again as she breathes hard through her climax.

When she finally relaxes, rolling her head back with a satisfied sigh, Din is still teetering on the edge, hard as rock and aching for release. He traces circles on her thighs with his thumbs while he tries to calm down, but when she’s still right there, resting against him, it’s all he can do to keep himself from jerking his hips up to finish himself off like some animal. Omera looks down between them. She reaches down to brush her fingers over his cock, and he groans as it twitches in response.

“Do you want to…”

“Yes,” he interrupts her, and right now it doesn’t matter what she’s suggesting, as long as it means finding relief.

“Tell me what you want,” she says, climbing off him to kneel beside him on the bed.

“Anything,” he says. He has a lifetime's worth of fantasies and wants, but his mind is suddenly blank, and he fumbles around for something, anything. “What we did before, that was good. I was...close.”

She nods, and is about to straddle him again, but then she pauses. 

“We can do that, and this time you can be inside me. If you want.”

The thought of it makes his head spin, and his cock is already agreeing enthusiastically where it strains against his pants. His lips, however, are dry with nerves and he has to lick them before answering.

“We can try.”

Omera stands up to shimmy out of her underwear, and Din doesn’t know if he can handle looking at her right now, so he focuses on ridding himself of his shirt and then unlaces his pants. He doesn’t pull them down, though. Not yet. Now that he’s suddenly here, going down a path that he once believed was impossible to tread, he finds himself worrying about the most mundane things. Will it be good enough for her, what he has to offer? She’s had other men – he knows this, and he doesn’t want to think about them, about how they might have looked, what...size they had been. At least seeing his face hadn’t made her change her mind, but this is something different.

And then Omera sits down on the bed again, and he’s given no time at all to further worry about her reaction, because she moves with surprising speed, reaching into his pants to carefully pull him loose. He glances up at her face, and he thanks the stars that she looks completely unfazed by what she’s gripping – maybe even a little pleased. Then she straddles him in one swift move, her warm slit pressed against his length in the most heavenly way.

“Okay?” she asks, and he nods.

He doesn’t dare to look at what she’s doing, so he keeps his eyes locked on hers as she grips his cock and guides him right. And he feels her. Hot and slick and tight around him, feels himself slide deeper and deeper inside her, and it’s better than anything he’s ever felt before, better than anything he imagined it to be. He wants to stay in this moment forever, and he curses silently because he knows he won’t last long at all, not when she feels this amazing.

As she settles on top of him, he grabs her hips and holds her still.

“Wait a little,” he says. “I don’t want it to end too soon.”

A satisfied smile spreads across her face, and she raises an eyebrow. “This may be the first time, but it doesn’t have to be the last,” she says, and shifts her weight a little.

“I hope not,” he groans. Her every movement is the sweetest torture. “But if you could just…”

“I’ll wait,” she says, and for a while they stay like that, just breathing.

It doesn’t help. As soon as he tries to move again, he can feel himself tightening in anticipation. 

“I can’t,” he says, helplessly.

“Then don’t,” she says.

And at long last, he lets it all go. He thrusts his hips up, impossibly driving his cock even deeper inside her. She gasps, fumbling for his hands, holding them tightly as he pushes into her again and again until he comes, in fast, hot spurts for what feels like forever.

Afterwards, they lie tangled up on the bed, and as much as he wants to savor the moment, Din feels himself drifting off, mind pleasantly drained and limbs heavy with exhaustion.

“I should go,” says Omera, but makes no move to get up. Instead, she nuzzles her face against his neck and shuffles closer.

“You should stay,” Din murmurs. 

“If I fall asleep now I won’t wake up in time.”

“In time for what?”

She doesn’t answer that, and Din is suddenly wide awake with anxiety.

“Omera?” he says.

“How long will you stay?” she asks, and her voice is small, worried.

In truth, he hasn’t thought about it. Hasn’t thought about leaving, but not about staying, either. When the next new moon comes around, he’s due his credits from Ruyuk. _After that, we’ll see_ , Din had said, and Ruyuk had agreed. But he realizes now that it’s not the money he should consider.

“As long as you need me,” he says at long last.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's early days and Din and Omera can't keep their hands off each other. But new and old insecurities alike rear their heads, and these two idiots in lust will have to talk (and work) things through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not betaed and written far too late at night. I will make no apologies for the silly ending :))

That they were going to get to this point had felt inevitable ever since that first kiss they shared in the woods. After that, it had merely been a question of when. Omera had savored the process, treasuring each step, each hesitant touch, until they’d reached that sweet point of no return.

What she hadn’t counted on was the overwhelming enthusiasm that followed.

Din, it seems, is intent on making up for lost time, finding any and every excuse to get her alone, even for just a few minutes. 

He steals touches under the cover of darkness as they make their way to the bonfire to fetch dinner. Grabbing her wrist, he pulls her into the deep shadows between two huts and bends down to kiss her neck. 

“I want you,” he says, his voice a low rumble in her ear.

“Later,” she says, but she can’t help but tease him by running her palm over his cock, smiling when she feels it strain against her hand.

“Now,” he whispers, reaching around her to grab at her ass.

“Soon,” she counters, slapping his hands away and dodging aside smoothly when he reaches for her again.

He hoists her up and pins her against the wall of the grain storage early one morning, kissing her breathless before pushing inside her with a groan. It’s hushed, and hurried, and when he sets her down on the floor again, gasping for air, she’s left buzzing with want and a steady pounding between her legs.

“Sorry,” he manages between pants, peppering her face with kisses. “I just–”

“It’s alright,” she assures him.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

He shuffles the patrol schedule until the two of them are scouting alone every other day, and they spend an embarrassing amount of time on the forest floor, to the point where Omera genuinely worries the village might get raided while they’re taking the opportunity to be loud.

It’s a wonder no one notices, she thinks as she dabs salve on her sore lips, kissed raw by Din the previous night. Surely it must show, in her sleep-starved eyes, in the way she walks. They’re not twenty anymore, that’s for sure, even though Din tries his best to act it. And his inexperience, although countered by his eagerness, is showing in other ways, too.

“What am I doing wrong?” 

They’re lying side by side, naked and with sweat still cooling on their skin. Omera turns to look at him. He’s thrown his arm over his eyes, seemingly in frustration, and she shuffles up on her side, placing her hand on his still-heaving chest to stroke it gently.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“You know what I mean,” he says, a bitter note in his voice. “That I can’t...That you need to do it yourself.”

 _Oh_. Her hand grows still as she thinks about how to put this diplomatically.

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” she says. “What we’re doing, it’s good, starting to get great. It’s just...Not what I need.”

He stiffens by her side, and she realizes that wasn’t a good way of putting it.

“What I mean is,” she hurries to say, “that it’s pretty much impossible without me helping out. And that’s not because you’re doing anything wrong. It’s just not as easy for me as it is for you.”

He stays silent, keeping his arm stubbornly in place, hiding his face.

“What about the others?” he says after a while.

“What others?”

She can see his jaw clenching briefly. “The ones before me. Could they...were they able to…”

So that’s where the shoe pinches. Omera bites her lip, trying not to smile.

“No,” she says, and he lifts his arm a little, peering up at her.

“Really,” he says flatly.

She sighs. Apparently she has to spell it out to him. “Regular sex, of the standard–” she waves her hand, trying to find an eloquent phrase and drawing a blank, “–in and out kind,” she finishes bluntly. “It’s nice. It feels good, but it won’t make me come.”

Din says something in an unfamiliar language, but she can hazard a guess what kind of word it is.

“That’s not to say you can’t,” she says, and even as she utters the words, her heart speeds up with nerves.

That seems to shake Din out of his sour mood, and he props himself up on an elbow.

“How?” he asks.

“There’s other things we can do,” she says quickly, hurrying the words on. If there’s to be an embarrassing letdown, she’d rather have it over and done with. “But it’s not for everyone,” she adds, preemptively bracing for rejection. Stars knows she regrets the last time she suggested it.

“What things?” he says, looking at her attentively.

“You can always use your hands,” she says. _Except that rarely works either_. She steels herself. “Or your tongue.”

His eyebrows fly up briefly, and he glances down her body. She can practically hear him thinking, and any second now he’ll–

“Let’s try that,” he says, interrupting her increasingly anxiety-ridden train of thought.

“Only if you–” she starts, but he’s already shuffling down on the bed. “What, now?” she says, bewildered.

“Why not?”

Why not indeed, she thinks, dazed and flustered as she watches him settle between her thighs.

“Here, right?” he says, brushing his fingers lightly over her clit, making her shudder a little.

“Right,” she says.

He bends down and kisses her there, and the soft touch is enough to make her toes curl. She’s still sensitive from what they did earlier, and it doesn’t take much to rekindle that flame of desire. Then she feels his tongue, cool against her hot folds, and she gasps, half sitting up before sinking down on the bed again.

“Like that?” he murmurs.

“Like that,” she breathes, grabbing the pillow behind her for purchase.

He swirls his tongue across her clit, then kisses it again, then sucks lightly at it. It’s clear that he has no plan or purpose, and his soft, curious exploration threatens to make her lose it completely.

“Maker, you taste good,” he says, wedging an arm under her thigh before bending down to lick her, slowly and deliberately, from her entrance to the bud at the top of her sex.

“It _feels_ good,” she groans. “It feels so good, Din.”

She can feel him smile against her, and then he locks his lips over her clit, and as she arches up off the bed, she briefly and irrationally thinks he can’t _possibly_ be doing this for the first time.

“Like that,” she gasps. “Just like that.”

“Mm,” he hums against her as he works her with his tongue.

When her climax starts building, it’s so sudden and intense that she stops breathing for a moment, riding the high of that feeling of inevitability for as long as she can before letting out an explosive breath.

“Now,” she whispers, and as she comes in wave after wave, she can hear him moaning in time with her until the feeling of his mouth on her is so intense she has to push him away.

He crawls back up to her, wiping his chin on the back of his hand with a satisfied grin.

“Why haven’t we done this before?” he asks some time later, just as Omera starts dozing off.

“Not everyone likes it,” she says sleepily.

“Who are these idiots,” Din says, pressing a kiss against her temple. “Actually, don’t tell me, I might be tempted to kill them.”

Omera snorts. “I hope you’re not serious,” she says, pulling the covers up over the both of them and shuffling closer.

“Of course not. I'm only joking. Unless…”

“ _Din_.”


End file.
